


Growing Upside Down

by hangingfire



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingfire/pseuds/hangingfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage romance and hormones can be hell, especially when your education has been exceptional in all matters but those of the heart. And when you're Death's granddaughter, it's extra special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> Big tip o' the hat to innocentsmith, who hatched the original idea of young Susan and young Teatime meeting at a cotillion, and for being an excellent beta-reader.

> _...there had been the annual Assassins' Ball and, because the young assassins were trained to move freely in society and were expected to dance well, and because well-cut black silk and long legs attracted a certain type of older woman, they'd whirled the night away with baubons, galliards, and slow-stepping pavonines, until the air thickened with musk and hunger._
> 
> \--Terry Pratchett, _Pyramids_

  
That Miss Butts was entirely opposed to the idea was no surprise; indeed, there was not a one of the teachers to be found who openly advocated it. And yet somehow, even with no obvious official support, the machinery was set in motion, and before long the halls and dormitories of the Quirm College for Young Ladies were abuzz with the news: the senior girls would be going to Ankh-Morpork for the Assassins' Ball.

Susan Sto Helit regarded the chatter with amusement and not a little disdain. As a senior girl herself, she would of course be going, but she simply couldn't work up the enthusiasm that gripped her classmates. She saw the purpose of the matter quite clearly and thoroughly stripped of any romantic daydreams that the Interchangeable Emmas of the world may have had; whatever else this trip may have been, it was little more than a marriage-market in the end, a means by which certain noble families of the Sto Plains were engineering alliances by way of their children's hormones. It helped, of course, that Susan was for all intents and purposes her own woman now, just a few months shy of her majority and her parents dead. And it helped as well that she knew she was no particular catch; Sto Helit, currently under the competent management of a regent, a friend of her father's, was not much more than a castle surrounded by a lot of cabbage fields. The knowledge, far from depressing her, made her feel pleasantly safe.

And then there was Imp.

She'd been walking out with the chip-shop boy for some months now, ever since _that_ business. He bought her little gifts and held her hand and kissed her, nervously, only when they were sure no one was watching. And sometimes he'd bring his precious harp down from his tiny, cramped bedsit and play and sing, and Susan would remember other songs that the chip-shop boy only dreamed of, and she'd shiver a little.

She liked him. She'd always _liked _him. Love was another matter entirely, and while there'd been a while there when she thought she might have loved him, she saw with the persistent clarity that was her gift and her curse that it probably wouldn't last past her graduation from the Quirm College. Still, she'd worked for this, she told herself; she and her grandfather had bloody well saved the universe practically for his sake, and she might as well at least enjoy it while it lasted.

"I won't be able to see you next weekend," she said when she met him at the chip-shop.

He glanced up and down the street and kissed her on the cheek quickly. "I know," he said, sounding morose. "It's the Assassins' Ball, isn't it?" Living in Quirm had filed down his Llamedos accent somewhat, although it had a way of returning in force when he was flustered.

"I suppose you heard it from the girls."

"They don't talk about anything else." He took her hand in his and they started down the street, past the floral clock towards the park. "I'm surprised that you're going. It doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy."

"It's not," she said. "But it's expected." She walked in silence for a little while, trying to frame what she was going to say next. "And I ... I need to meet people there. Not like that," she added quickly, seeing his expression change. "I mean, I'm -- I want to go to Ankh-Morpork after I finish school. Perhaps I'll teach. Or be a governess. It's better than sitting in that draughty old castle waiting for someone to ... to ... you know."

"But why can't you stay here?" Imp exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and dropping her hand. She turned to face him and he took hold of her shoulders. "You can be a governess here. You coulld teach at the Quirm Collllege. You don't have to _lleave_."

Susan looked at him in frank amazement; she'd not expected him to be so upset. "But I don't want to stay here," she said, "it's too sodding d--" She broke off. Imp regarded her with a wounded look in his eyes.

"Too sodding _dull_," he said bitterly. "That's what you were going to say, isn't it?"

"Well," she said. "It ... it is."

He nodded. "I know that. D'you think I llike it either? But I can't -- I tried to llive in Ankh-Morpork. I coulldn't afford it. It's different for you."

"Imp --"

"You're a duchess. You've got revenues to fallll back on --"

"Cabbage isn't good for _that_ much --"

"And I'm just a kid in a chip-shop. And a failled bard."

"Why don't you come with me then?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and Susan studied his face. Some cold, pragmatic thing deep in her core folded its arms and nodded sagely. _Here it comes. You knew how this would end, of course._ And at the same time, she found herself digging her nails into her palms, feeling wretched for having hurt him, and desperately, irrationally hoping that he might say yes.

"You know I can't," he said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. "It's not really what you want anyway, is it?"

"I --"

"Susan." They stood there on the path, awkwardly, not wanting to stay, nor to go, nor to leave without saying _something_. Finally he bent and kissed her, _really_ kissed her, regardless of who might have been looking, and then he took a step back. "Have a good time in Ankh-Morpork next week," he said. "Don't forget to write."

"I'm coming back."

"Of course you are." He smiled at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before he turned to go.

That evening after dinner, Lady Sara Grateful said something sniffy about girls who kiss chip-shop boys in the middle of the park in broad daylight. Ordinarily, Susan might have snarled at her, or merely fixed her with a ferocious glare that brooked no further argument or sarcasm. This time, Susan merely made a note to spill something red and sticky on her at the ball, as early in the evening as possible. When she finally fell asleep that night, her pillow was only a little damp, and when she thought about it, she wasn't even completely sure why.

***

The senior girls left in a little caravan a few days later. Susan was stuck in a coach with three other twittering girls whose names she scarcely knew despite their having been in classes together since the age of six. Her friends Princess Jade and Gloria Throgsdaughter weren't coming, much to Susan's chagrin; it was felt, and in all honesty they agreed, that even in these broadminded times, their presence was probably not terribly desirable. Not to mention the fact that there was no time to reinforce and retrofit a carriage to make it suitable for Jade's weight.

Susan spent much of the journey with her knees drawn up in the corner of the coach, her nose buried in_The Guild Houses of Ankh-Morpork_ (quite possibly the only book in the Quirm College Library that she hadn't previously gotten to). When the other girls giggled and crept between the rooms of the inns where they stayed and attempted to smuggle in bottles of fruity, cheap wine, Susan laid in bed and read, or merely stared at the ceiling, thinking about her future and her family.

It wasn't that she'd ever said to herself as a child that she wanted to be a governess. But as she'd grown older and become more educated, it became increasingly clear to her that for a lady of any kind of title, no matter how trivial the holdings, it was one of the very, very few viable alternatives to sitting around Sto Helit waiting for a husband. It was respectable, and more importantly, it was normal. One could have found a way to shirk convention and become what they called an adventuress, but after the business with her grandfather and all that, Susan felt no desire to seek out adventure. Indeed, she suspected that it was much more likely that adventure would be coming after her, and the best she could do would be to try and stay out of its way.

Imp ... well, she was sorry for that, to be sure; what was strange was that she also felt vaguely relieved. She tried to analyse it, but every time she circled around to the problem her brain seemed to go all squashy, a sensation she disliked immensely, and so it was much better to simply leave it alone for the time being. No, indeed, for all the weird circumstances of the world that had thrown them together, it would have never worked out in the long run, but she still did like him and she hoped he was all right; and that last time he'd kissed her she ... She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head, as if that would somehow restore her rationality. It didn't.

***

Susan had been prepared for many things -- that the Lady Saras and Cassandra Foxes of the world would be far better turned out than she, that the ranks of Assassins in their finest black would be an admittedly arresting sight, that there would be large ladies of a certain age wearing jewels that could purchase the entirety of Sto Helit -- but she was not prepared for the humiliation of being _announced_. All of the girls were, of course, alphabetically by surname; when their name was called out by the majordomo, they'd curtsey, smile glitteringly at the crowd, and descend the stairs to join the merriment below.

At least that was the plan, and most of the girls were able to follow through with flying colours.

"Her Grace the Duchess of Sto Helit, Lady Susan Sto Helit!"

Susan stepped forward, aware that her face was positively scarlet (the birthmark was no doubt glowing like a lantern), whether from rage or embarrassment she wasn't entirely sure. People were looking at her. Staring. She could practically read the thoughts on their faces: _who is this? what on the Disc is going on with her ridiculous hair? why such a plain dress? is Sto Helit important right now? oh, it's _that_girl, isn't it, with the parents who...?_ She bit the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood; she curtseyed (perfectly, small consolation though it was) and descended, glaring at the steps beneath her feet.

As per the universal law of teenagers at dances, the Quirm College girls all gathered along one wall in a flock, whispering and looking anxiously at the senior boys from the Assassins' Guild who had likewise gathered on the opposite wall. It was at least an hour (during which Lady Sara Grateful was horrified to discover a streak of bright pink punch on her skirt) before one of the boys, like an ambassador, finally ventured across the floor. Then, slowly, girls and boys paired off, blushing and awkward, tripping a little as they danced, and then, as the evening wore on, finding quiet corners in which to sit in anxious silence.

Susan watched. It was easier to simply be invisible; not that anyone would have paid much attention to her anyway. And being an observer was far more educational; she found herself watching the expressions with interest: the way a tilt of the shoulder or a sidelong glance betrayed intrigue or distaste. She didn't fully understand some of the things she saw; why, for instance, one of the ladies laughed at a particular joke of Lord Downey's, or the sly look that passed between two women when a young man handed them glasses of wine. She studied the strained expression on Miss Butts's face, and the way her eyes darted to and fro in a vain attempt to keep watch over all of her girls. Of course they would not stay late; _things _happened when the hour grew late, and though the girls were all consumed with curiosity over what those things might be, tonight was not the night to find out.

Her gaze flicked past the musicians, past the refreshments, past an alcove heavy with shadows --

\-- wait. She looked again, and saw in the shadows a short, slim boy with a cherubic face. He was probably close to Susan's age, and since he was wearing full black, perhaps even a little older. He too was watching the crowd with interest; there was the faintest suggestion of a sneer on his face.

There was something wrong with his eyes. Susan couldn't really tell exactly what it was from where she was standing -- one seemed to be glass; who knew how that happened, although they did say things about the nature of the Guild final exam. He turned his head slightly and seemed to be looking directly at her. She was so startled that she forgot to be invisible.

Well, now he could see her for sure, and his gaze locked with hers. Susan suddenly found it very hard to breathe. He was smiling at her, the first time all evening that anyone had smiled at her, and her stomach seemed to flip right over. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the crowd and the music; there was a strange heat in her belly; and she knew with absolute certainty that whoever this young man was, she hated him. Was completely revolted by him, for no reason she could articulate; was perhaps just a little afraid of him even, if Susan was ever afraid of anything; and something else that she didn't have a name for, but which only fed the repulsion.

And if the strange hard edge to his smile and the way his fingers curled in the folds of his cloak was anything to go by, he probably felt the same way about her.

She refused to look away, though every nerve screamed at her to do so; she felt, obscurely, that to look away would be somehow to lose. He kept smiling at her, maddeningly and fiercely, and Susan thought giddily that they might well stay that way all evening.

And then Cassandra Fox and one of the Selachii boys pushed past Susan, crossing directly in front of her, and when they were gone, the strange young Assassin was gone too.

Susan stumbled back a couple of steps, backing into a chair and sitting down in it with a thump. _What the hell just happened?_ It was like the first time she'd seen Imp, only ... wrong. That was the only word she could think of for it: wrong. Seeing Imp hadn't felt like being dropped into a pot of boiling oil from a great height. And when Imp looked at her, it didn't feel like someone was trying to bore into her skull with a hand drill.

There were a man and a woman in the alcove now; they were older, in their twenties perhaps. They stood so close together that they seemed to be one shadow; Susan's throat tightened, and she hurriedly looked away. _I'm not ready for this_, she thought faintly, although what exactly _this_ was, she wasn't sure.

Much to her relief, Miss Butts and the other teachers took that moment to start gathering up the girls; the hour was reaching that dangerous point of lateness, and unlike her classmates, Susan went willingly. She glanced back towards the Guild as the carriage pulled away, and she thought she glimpsed a small flash in the shadows just on the other side of the gates, lantern-light reflecting off a glass eye. She sank down in her seat and rubbed her forehead; she could feel a massive headache coming on.

***

"Imp?"

"Susan!" He beamed at her from behind the counter and she felt a small pang; he was so clearly glad to see her and she'd been working so hard to avoid him since the trip to Ankh-Morpork. "Can you wait a bit? I'll only be a moment."

"I'll be outside."

She sat down on a bench outside the chip-shop, staring into middle distance. Miss Butts had put the seal on the seniors' school careers that morning with her fulsome, enthusiastic, yet surpassingly dull speech; now Jade was on her way home, and Gloria, and Cassandra, and Lady Sara, and all the others; by now, Susan guessed that she was one of the very few girls of her class still remaining in Quirm. There was a coach waiting to take her back to Sto Helit, but before she left, she had one more piece of business that she had to finish.

That piece emerged from the shop moments later in a fresh shirt. He blinked at her neat black dress and her hair (which had coiled itself into a rather prim bun that morning with surprising ease) and smiled. "I think this is the first time I've ever seen you not in your school uniform," he said.

_It's not_, she thought, _you just don't remember it_.

"You look ... good. Older. In a good way, I mean," he stammered, and blushed. "Are you -- I mean -- what -- how are you?"

"Thank you. I'm fine. I'm leaving today."

"Oh." His face fell, but he gamely tried to keep up the smile. "To Ankh-Morpork, then?"

"Yes. Well, not right away. I mean, I'm going to Sto Helit to manage some things there and then I -- I've got a job. In Ankh-Morpork." She shoved her hands deep in her pockets. "I'll be governessing. Like I said."

"I'm sure you'll be wonderful." He put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "So I -- this is --"

She nodded, momentarily angry that this was upsetting her. She couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't trite or awful -- _I'll miss you? Take care of yourself? Have a good life?_She took his hand and held it for a moment. "I'll write when I can," she said finally.

"I hope so," he said, and she could hear in his voice that he didn't quite believe her. "I'llll miss you."

"I -- yes." She took a deep breath. "Can you do one thing for me, Imp?"

He looked at her a little sceptically, and it occurred to her that she'd never asked him for anything before. "I can try," he said.

"Get out of the chip-shop and keep playing music and get the hell out of Quirm," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "In whatever order is most convenient. Goodbye, Imp -- I'm really going to miss you."

Before he could say anything else, she turned quickly and all but ran back to school. She flung herself into the coach and stared sightlessly out the window as the horses cantered off down the road.

***

"... and this is your room your G -- I mean La -- I mean Miss Susan; I do hope it will be all right, the previous governess thought it was quite comfortable, although I daresay that you might -- I mean --"

"It's fine, Mrs Gaiter," Susan said, cutting off her new employer in mid-witter. "Honestly, it's lovely."

"Oh! I -- yes. Yes. Well then I -- I expect you'll want to get settled in, then. The children, they're having their ah, their nap --" the woman looked at Susan with eyes that questioned whether Susan even approved of naps, "-- so you have time to, you know, to unpack before --"

"Yes, Mrs Gaiter. Thank you." Gently, Susan guided the nervy woman towards the door and finally was forced to close the door practically in her face. That her employer was so pathetically afraid of her might have been funny, except for the fact that Mrs Gaiter's fluttering and scraping might very well drive Susan mad.

She looked around her room; it was small, but very comfortable and private and in close proximity to the nursery. There was a window overlooking the street below, and Susan pushed the curtains aside to take in the view. The Gaiters' home was on a comfortably well-to-do street in one of the cleaner portions of Ankh-Morpork; below, Susan watched tradesmen and merchants pass as they hurried about their early-evening business. The sun was setting, and the reddish-gold light cast curious shadows along doors and windows.

A man in Assassins' black paused briefly, and the passersby flowed around him like water around a rock in a stream. Susan's breath caught; then he looked up at something overhead and she saw his thin moustache, beaky nose, and hard brown eyes. A tiny sigh escaped her; whatever dangers there might be in Ankh-Morpork, they were none of them _here_.

There was a movement out of the corner of her eye; she turned and saw a raven flying away. There seemed to be a small, shadowy thing clinging to its back.

She took a deep breath. Counted to ten. And pulled the curtains shut.


End file.
